In a Dark, Dark Wood(36)

‘Well, I’d hardly call her a celebrity,’ Clare grumbled as we lurched over a humpback bridge and picked up speed. The sick feeling rose again. ‘Next question.’

‘What is James’s favourite designer clothes label?’

Favourite designer clothes label? The James I’d known would have laughed at the very suggestion. I wondered if it was a trick question and Clare was about to say Oxfam.

Clare tapped her fingers on the wheel, thinking. ‘I’m stuck between Alexander McQueen,’ she said at last, ‘and Comme des Gar?ons. But I’m going to go for … McQueen. Mainly because he actually wears McQueen.’

Jesus wept.

‘Correct!’ Flo said. ‘Well, it actually says “If we’re talking people I think are cool, then probably Vivienne Westwood, but if you mean designers I actually wear, then McQueen.” So I think that counts. Question four, which body part—’ she began to laugh ‘—did James accidentally slice off aged ten in a woodwork lesson?’

‘He took a chunk off his knuckle,’ Clare said instantly. ‘The scar’s still there.’

I squeezed my eyes tighter shut. I remembered that scar so well, a white circle on the knuckle of his little finger, and a long silver line tracing up the outside of his wrist, pale against his tan. I remembered kissing my way along that line, up his forearm, to the soft crook of his elbow, and James lying there, stiff and shaking, trying not to laugh as my lips brushed the ticklish soft skin of his inner arm.

‘Correct!’ Flo said. ‘You’re doing well. Levelled up. It’s three and a half all round. So this final one is the decider. If Clare gets this, she wins and you lot wear the pants. So, drum roll please. At what age did James lose his virginity?’

Nausea rose up in my throat and I opened my eyes.

‘Stop the c-car.’

‘What?’ Clare glanced at me in the rear-view mirror. ‘Jesus, Lee, you’re green.’

‘Stop the car,’ I put a hand over my mouth. ‘I’m going …’ I couldn’t say any more. I pressed my lips together, breathing through my nose as Clare bumped to a hasty halt, and then I scrambled out across Nina’s lap and stood on the snowy verge, hands on knees, shivering with the strange aftermath of nausea.

‘Are you OK?’ I heard Flo’s anxious voice behind me. ‘Want me to do anything?’

I couldn’t speak. I just shook my head vehemently, wishing she’d go away. Wishing they’d all go away.

‘Are you all right, Lee?’ Clare’s voice floated out of the window.

Nora, I thought, viciously, you stupid bitch. But I said nothing. Just waited for my shuddering breathing to go back to normal, and the sickness to subside.

‘Are you OK, Nora?’ It was Nina, beside me, her hand on my shoulder. I nodded, and then slowly straightened up, taking a long, shaky breath. The cold air stung the inside of my lungs, but it was a clear, cleansing cold, a relief after the hot stuffiness of the car.

‘Yeah. Sorry. I just went a bit … I think it was sitting in the back seat.’

‘I think it was Flo’s f*cking nauseating quiz,’ Nina said. She didn’t bother to lower her voice and I winced on Flo’s behalf and glanced behind me apologetically, but either she didn’t hear, or she didn’t care. She was chatting away to Clare unconcernedly. ‘Flo,’ Nina said, turning back to the car, ‘I think Nora should sit in the front, is that OK?’

‘Oh yeah! Totally, totally fine. Totally. Nora, you poor thing! You should have said if you were feeling rubbish.’

‘I’m OK,’ I said stiffly, but I took the front seat that Flo had vacated and slid in beside Clare. She flashed me a sympathetic look and when Flo said enthusiastically from the back seat, ‘Right! Back to the quiz!’ Clare interjected.

‘I think we’ll just call it a draw, yeah, Flops? Maybe we’ve all had enough quiz for the moment.’

‘Oh.’ Flo’s face fell, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Whoever’s fault this whole mess was, it wasn’t hers. Her only crime was trying to be a good friend to Clare.





15


‘LEONORA!’ THERE IS a hand shaking me, pulling me awake. ‘Leonora, I’m going to need you to wake up, duckie. Leonora.’

I feel fingers pulling at my eyelids and a light, blindingly bright, shining in.

‘Ow!’ I blink and pull back, and a hand lets go of my chin.

‘Sorry, ducks, are you awake now?’

The face is disconcertingly close, her eyes staring into mine. I blink again, and then nod.

‘Yes. Yes, I’m awake.’

I don’t know when I dozed off. It felt like I was awake half the night, watching the silhouettes of the police through the glass, running through things in my head, trying to remember. The clay-pigeon shoot. That was the recoil bruise. I must remember to tell the police … if only I can keep things straight in my head.

But the closer things get to – to whatever happened, the hazier they get. What did happen? Why am I here?

I must have spoken the last words aloud for the nurse gives a sympathetic smile.

‘You had a bit of a car accident my love.’

‘Am I OK?’

‘Yes, nothing broken.’ She has a pleasant Northumberland burr. ‘But you’ve knocked your poor face something awful. You’ve got a couple of beautiful black eyes – but no fractures. But that’s why I had to wake you. We have to do observations every few hours, just to make sure you’ve not had a funny turn in the night.’